The Wander Year
by Allie Bird
Summary: He never knew how quickly a person could change.  Sam/Freddie.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: He never knew how quickly a person could change. Eventual Sam/Freddie

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly, unfortunately.

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The Wander-Year

By Rain Falls Down

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"I'm late, I'm late, I'm late," I muttered to myself, tapping my knuckles against the steering wheel. I honked the horn again. "Let's go, Sam!" I yelled. She'd asked me for a ride on the first day of school since her car had broken down for the third time since June. I had agreed, but I had _clearly_ expressed that we needed to be on our way by 7:40.

Looking at my watch, I groaned as I saw that it was 7:46. "Jesus," I grumbled under my breath. Why did Sam always have to be so perpetually late, all the time? Did she not know the meaning of timeliness?

As the clock on my car changed to 7:47, Sam's blonde head appeared outside of her house. "Stay away from my ham, Frothy!" she yelled as she slammed the rickety front door. Her curly hair was disheveled and she was wearing one blue flip flop and one orange sneaker. Clomping down the cracked sidewalk, her sneaker splashed in a puddle, dirty water flying everywhere. She opened the passenger car door and slid in, dumping her plaid backpack on the floor.

I laughed. "Get dressed in the dark today?"

"Shut it, Benson," she snapped. "Rough morning."

"Every morning's rough for you," I said, still grinning.

She glared at me, but didn't say anything, sending me a silent warning.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I kept my eyes focused on the road, remembering to breathe in, breathe out. Late, late, late, late, the windshield wipers seemed to mock me. As I slowed to a stop in front of a red light, I heard a faint crinkling beside me.

"Sa-am," I whined as the greasy smell of potato chips filled my nose. "No eating in my car. I _just_ had the interior cleaned and I really don't want to have to do it again."

She snickered. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Fredward. It's just breakfast."

"Who has potato chips for breakfast?"

Sam eyed the yellow bag doubtfully. "Hmm. Me, I guess," she shrugged, and continued stuffing them in her mouth.

We sat in silence, except for Sam's obnoxious crunching noises. "So," I said, attempting to break the uncomfortable stillness. "Are you going to join a sport or something this year?"

Sam snorted. "No," she said, crumpling up the bag of Lays and tossing it on the floor. I opened my mouth to say something about the repercussions of littering, but Sam spoke first. "Why? You think I'd make a good cheerleader?"

I laughed out loud. "Yeah," I told her, trying to get the image of Sam tossing pom pons out of my mind. "Wearing those little skirts and waving sparkly poms… totally like you."

"Maybe I should start sleeping with every guy I see, too."

"Cake a bunch of makeup on your face."

"Get a fake tan."

"Start, like, talking, like, like this." We were both laughing by then, as I pulled into the high school parking lot.

"Shit," Sam muttered under her breath, looking out her window, "it's the Wicked Bitch of the West."

It had to be Courtney Kelly. Now, I had been forced to watch all sorts of cheesy high school chick flicks with Carly and Sam, and I hated the way they made everything seem so cliché, with the evil queen bee and her jock boyfriend who somehow falls in love with the nerdy, shy girl. It's all so unrealistic. But Courtney Kelly was like something out of a teen movie. She was the cheerleading captain, filthy rich, and a complete bitch. And of course, Sam hated her. It had something to do with an incident involving macaroni and a pair of shoes. I'd known Sam for long enough that I knew better than to ask for the details.

"Come on," I murmured to Sam as I parked. Sam grumbled something unintelligible as we stepped out of the car, blinking in the sunlight.

"Did they run out of matching shoes at the Salvation Army today, Sam?" Courtney called. Her surrounding clones tittered, and Courtney smiled, showing her white teeth.

"Did you borrow that skirt from your four year old sister?" Sam hissed as we stalked past Courtney and her very mini miniskirt.

"Actually, Sam, it's from your mother's closet," Courtney shot back. "Since everyone knows she's a hooker."

While I marveled at the fact that Courtney Kelly had essentially admitted that she dressed like a hooker, I watched as Sam's jaw tightened, and her fingers curled. "You better watch out, you little slut," she snarled. "I'll beat you within every inch of your fu –" Her last words were muffled as I clamped my hand over her mouth.

"Don't do anything you'd regret," I hissed. Sam struggled for a second before ripping my arm off her face. She shot a look of pure loathing at Courtney before striding away, with me hot at her heels.

"She's such a little skank," Sam scowled as we entered the school. "I'd like to take her pretty brown head and shove it right up her –"

"Okay!" I interrupted. "Visual not needed!" She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning against a locker. A young looking boy – probably a freshman – paused in front of Sam and said something about needing to get into his locker. She glared at him, and he gave her a terrified look and scurried away.

"Stupid freshman," she muttered.

I ignored this. "Don't let Courtney ruin your day, Sam. It's junior year! We're upperclassmen now!"

She snorted and trudged in the other direction, muttering something about being hungry and when was lunch.

I arrived at my first hour class a few minutes later, after wading through a pool of freshmen with their maps in one hand and their overstuffed bags in their other. Carly was sitting in a desk in the front row and I plopped down next to her. "Hi!" she exclaimed, beaming brightly.

"Hey," I replied.

"Don't you just love the first day of school? I do. I love wearing my new clothes, and seeing all my friends and opening fresh notebooks. It's just a good, good day," she chirped.

I looked at her. "Why are you all peppy?"

Carly smiled. "I've decided to try out for cheerleading! I'm practicing my pep!"

"What?" I exclaimed, nearly jumping out of my seat. "Cheerleading? Are you _nuts_? _Why_ would you do a stupid thing like that?"

She shrugged. "I just think it might be fun."

Before I could rag on her more, the spicy and incredibly overpowering scent of Abercrombie and Fitch cologne filled my nose. Carly must've smelled too; she looked around before her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened.

Jake Krandle strolled past our desks, grinning lazily in his pretty-boy way. "Hey, Carly," he greeted, flipping his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Hi," Carly squeaked. Then she turned to me once he had sat down in the back of the room. "Omigod, Jake Krandle just said my name!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I scowled. Stupid Jake, who every girl was in love with, with his stupid perfect hair and his stupid body and his stupid friends and his stupid spot on the football team… and then it clicked. "You're only trying out for cheerleading because Jake Krandle is on the football team," I accused.

Carly blushed and picked at her thumbnail. "Am not," she said, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Carly. You suck at lying."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "Okay. Maybe you're right."

I groaned. "I thought you got over him in eighth grade."

Sighing, Carly said, "Well, I did, but come on, Freddie, just look at him! He's so gorgeous. Why, are you jealous?"

"Carly, I got over you about the same time. But anyway, since when did you get so shallow?"

"I'm not _shallow_, I'm just _saying_…"

I opened my mouth to answer when I heard someone clear their throat. "Excuse me," a female voice said as I looked up. It was a girl I didn't recognize with curly brown hair and a pretty face. "Is that seat open?" She gestured to the desk next to me.

"Um, yeah," I said. She had a splatter of little freckles on her nose, I noticed. The girl sat down, crossing her legs and piling her books in a neat stack.

"I'm Carly Shay," Carly said suddenly, leaning over me and elbowing my side. "This is Freddie Benson.

"Hi," the girl said with a smile. "I'm Kathryn Brile. You can call me Katy, though. Kathryn is my stuffy old grandma who lives with her thirteen cats."

I laughed, and she flushed, clearly pleased with herself.

"Did you just move here?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, from Chicago. My dad's company shipped him out here. He works for the Pear Company."

"Oh, that's so neat!" Carly exclaimed. "Do you get a lot of free stuff?"

Katy laughed. "Uh-huh," she said. "I have one of the first PearPads. It's almost bigger than me!"

Carly giggled. "My brother got one a while ago –"

"Well, it's nice to meet you," I interrupted, and then, impulsively, I reached out to shake her hand. Her palms were soft.

"You too." Katy grinned.

"Get out of my way, you stupid kids!" An enormously fat woman half ran, half waddled into the classroom, her frazzled grey hair flying in all directions. Several students who were still milling around the classroom door looked alarmed. "If I'm late again, I get fired! But it's not like it's _my_ fault this time. My idiot of an ex-husband decided it would be a funny joke to egg my car. Stupid bastard. I might've just as well married a five year old," she said loudly. Katy's eyes met mine and she giggled. I bit back a smile. In the words of Carly, this was going to be a good, good year.

"This is going to be the shittiest year of my life," Sam announced bitterly, biting angrily into her third hotdog as we sat in the corner of the lunchroom. Carly was watching her with a half amused, half revolted expression on her face.

"And you've based this on the…" I checked my watch. "Four hours we've been here?"

Sam glared at me. "Shut up, Benson," she said, spraying bits of hotdog on the table. "I'm not in the mood."

I shook my head. "So what happened?"

Sam shrugged, tearing off another bite of hotdog. "God. Just the fact that we're back in this dump. If you ask me," she chewed furiously, and then swallowed. "Summer should be switched with the school year. I could deal with only three months of school."

"But Sam, summer wouldn't be called summer if it took place over different seasons…"

Carly interrupted me with a squeal. "I'm super excited for this year. I mean, we get to go to the prom!"

"Not until May," I reminded her. "And we have a year of filling out college aps to look forward to."

"College?" Sam scoffed. "Who's worried about college now? It's not for a bazillion years."

"Only two, Sam," I said. "And I've heard that junior year is the most important year of high school with all the preparation and standardized tests we have to take."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I have better things to spend my time on then worrying about the SATs."

"Like what? How to forge your mother's signature?" I snapped back. "Oh wait – you learned how to do that in third grade." Sam glowered at me, her face turning red.

"Listen, Benson, I've already told you to quit messing –" her voice broke off as she suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out a furiously buzzing phone.

Carly shook her head. "Sam, why does your phone vibrate so much?" she asked. "It's louder than your actual ring tone!"

Sam didn't answer. She was looking at the caller I.D., her face confused. Then she got up and answered it, quickly walking away and plugging her ear with her finger. "Hello?" I heard her say before she left the cafeteria and disappeared entirely. Carly and I exchanged confused looks before shrugging and returning to our lunches.

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A/N: And there you have it! Chapter 1 of The Wander-Year. Please do review. Tell me what you liked, what you hated… Chapter 2 will be up soon, and the plot starts to pick up there.

-Allie


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

The Wander-Year

Chapter 2

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Ri-i-i-i-ng! The earsplitting noise of the bell announced that the first day of school was finally over. Students poured into the hallways from every direction. I left my Pre-calc classroom feeling run down and in great need of a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Freddie," a hand grabbed my arm and promptly sneezed on it.

"Hi, Jeremy," I grimaced, yanking my arm away immediately and wiping it on my shirt. "Still have that cold, I see."

Jeremy grinned sloppily as he attempted the staunch the flow of his nose on his sleeve. "Yuh," he sniffed. "Id won't go away!"

"Well, my mom has this really good cold medicine I can get you…" I said, slowly making my way down the hallway, towards my locker.

"Waid!" Jeremy sniffed. "The AV club meeds damorrow mording and I was wondering if you had godden any of the new cable-" he sneezed. "New cable-" Sneeze. "New-"

"Wow, Jeremy, there's Carly; nice talking to you," I said loudly, backing away.

"Waid!" Sneeze.

I ducked through an oncoming swarm of students, making my way towards Carly. She was standing by her locker, clutching her books tightly. As I got closer, I noticed how her face was white and pinched. When she saw me, her whole body relaxed.

"There you are!" she sighed.

"Here I am?"

"Don't try to be funny, Freddie," she scolded. I raised my eyebrows. "Have you seen Sam? I can't find her anywhere!"

"I dunno," I said. "I'm supposed to give her a ride home."

"I'm getting kind of worried," Carly bit her lower lip. "I haven't seen her since she got up to answer that phone call during lunch, have you? We were supposed to be in Spanish together last period, but she wasn't there… and she's not picking up on her cell."

I shook my head slowly. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen her since lunch either. Maybe we should head over to her house to see if something's up?"

"I don't think I can, Freddie, I have work like… now."

"I'll go then," I said. "See you later."

Carly nodded quickly, chewing on the edges of her nails. "Call me and tell me what's up!"

"I will."

Even as I pulled up to Sam's house, I could tell that something was definitely wrong. Police cruisers were lined up on the curb, their lights still flashing busily. I parked on the street a ways down, since getting involved with the police was not exactly high up on my list. My thoughts were racing a million miles a minute. Since when did Sam get mixed up with the police? She was mischievous, sure, but a criminal? Not at all.

As I got closer to the house, I could see two officers conversing seriously in the front yard. Sam was sitting on the front porch step, her head bent low.

Oh, no, I thought. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I started running towards her as fast as I could. "Sam!" I exclaimed, grabbing her shoulder roughly when I reached her. "What the hell happened?"

Sam's head snapped up; her eyes were wide and dazed until they met mine, and they narrowed. "Benson," she said through gritted teeth. "What –"

"Sam," I hissed. "You didn't get _arrested_, did you?"

She continued to glare at me. "Mind your own beeswax," she finally said as she stood up and began walking towards the police car.

My head was whirling. "Sam!" I called. "You can't go to jail! We – I – can bail you out… possibly… maybe." My hands fumbled around in my pockets; I came out with six dollars and a coupon for Taco King.

Sam whipped around. "I am not going to jail," she snarled. "My mom is dead. I'm going to the hospital to identify her body."

My jaw dropped open, and all I could do is stare at Sam's retreating back. "Oh, shit," I muttered. "Sam," I said, jogging over to her. "I'm so sorry," I reached over to touch her shoulder. She recoiled, ducking away from my grasp.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, crossing her arms. "I don't need your sympathy." And with that, she climbed into the backseat of the police car and sat there, stony faced.

* * *

"She was drunk," Carly stated bluntly. We were sitting on the couch in her living room the next afternoon, sipping iced tea and watching Celebrities Under Water.

"Who?" I asked, staring at the TV intently as Jessica Simpson emerged from a pool of water, gasping hysterically and screaming about her ruined makeup.

"Sam's mom," Carly paused to take a sip of tea. "She was driving drunk, and hit another car."

I considered this. Mrs. Puckett had been the start of many other stupid blunders, but nothing had ever been as serious as drunk driving. "Who was in the other car?"

Carly lowered her eyes. "A family of three. A father, a mother, and their eighteen month old baby."

Oh, Jesus, I thought.

"They were killed, too."

Carly and I sat in silence for a moment, the horror of it all sinking in.

"That's terrible," I eventually said.

"Yeah." Carly nodded sadly. "It really is."

There was another long pause.

"I think Sam feels really guilty," Carly said suddenly.

"Guilty? Sam? For what?" My eyebrows furrowed. "She didn't do anything."

Carly pondered this. "I guess not," she murmured. "But all the same…"  
We drank our teas quietly, our thoughts weighing down the surrounding air. How would it feel, I wondered, to know that your own mother was responsible for the deaths of three innocent people?

I looked out the huge loft window. It was a breathtaking day outside; the sky was of the clearest blue, and the sun was shining down over the dark green grass. I could almost imagine the souls of that little family rising up, up, and into the white clouds.

I pictured Sam's face the day I went over to her house and saw her sitting on the porch. Tired… troubled… filled with guilt…

It would feel terrible, I decided.

* * *

There wasn't really a funeral, only a small burial. It took place four days after the accident, on a rainy Friday afternoon. There were only six of us there: Sam, Carly, Spencer, Melanie, my mother, and me, along with a minister, even though the Pucketts weren't religious in the slightest bit.

"And now," the minister announced somberly, "I shall read a poem I have selected that I think captures the exact essence of the beloved Pam Puckett." He cleared his throat grandly. "There's magic in a Mother's touch, and sunshine in her smile. There's love in everything she does to make our lives worthwhile."

Beside me, Carly shook her head. "Old geezer," she whispered. "He probably doesn't even know who he's talking about."

I nodded. On the other side of me, Melanie sniffed, wiping away tears on her cheeks. "She was always good to me," she sobbed, pressing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. My eyes rolled almost automatically. Melanie was at boarding school nine months of the year, so contact with her mother was limited. Come to think of it, maybe Melanie going to boarding school had something to do with getting away from her mother.

"…We can find both hope and courage just by looking in her eyes…"

At this point, I had to agree with Carly. I had met Sam's mom on only a few occasions, the majority of them occurring before high school, but most of what I heard of Ms. Puckett was from Sam.

_ "Well, my mom doesn't feed me."_

_ "I was born on a bus… my mom doesn't have good planning skills."_

_ "Hey, I'm just happy that she got out of bed before noon."_

I didn't know much about Sam's family. Honestly, I had only been to her house a few times. Sam joked about her screwed up family, but rarely had I ever heard her mention a family member in a serious light.

As the minister droned on, my eyes found Sam. She was apart from the rest of us, standing on the other side of the gravesite, and further back. Her back was hunched over, and her hair hung like a sheet over the side of her face.

"…Her laughter is a source of joy, her works are warm and wise…"

Carly fidgeted next to me. "What a load of bull," she muttered, probably more to herself than to me. Then she turned. "Did you end up going to the other funeral?"

I shook my head. She was referring to the funeral of the other family killed in the accident. It had been a back-and-forth battle in my mind on whether or not I should go, but I eventually decided not to. Instead, I had sat alone on my fire escape.

"It was incredibly sad," Carly whispered. "Half of Seattle showed up, I think."

I looked around at the six of us, plus the somber minister. Who would want to go to the funeral of a murderer? The thought crept up on me before I could stop it.

"I went with Spencer," Carly continued. "I didn't see Sam, though; maybe she was meeting with her new foster parents?"

I pressed my lips together. I didn't mention it to Carly, but Sam had shown up at my fire escape that day. We hardly talked; we just sat on the edge, our feet dangling, and watched the busy streets of Seattle. When nightfall came, she disappeared without a word. "Hang on," I said. "Sam's going into foster care? Doesn't she have relatives?"

Carly hesitated. "Well," she said, "they've all been declared incompetent." She paused again. "They're all in jail, or on parole, or have had past convictions, or…"

"Is she staying in Seattle?"

"As far as I know. We…" Carly tugged on the sleeves of her black dress. "…we haven't talked much in the past week."

Sam had missed school the whole week, hadn't answered any of my texts or calls, and iCarly had been put on an unspoken hiatus. In fact, the only time I had seen her since the day of the accident had been on the fire escape.

"It's like she shut down, or something," Carly continued.

"Her mom just died, Carls," I murmured back.

"I know, but she's shutting everyone out. She needs us, Freddie, you know that."

All of a sudden, the light drizzle of rain turned into a torrential downpour. The minister looked up from the book in his hands and took off running towards the parking lot. Carly and I exchanged glances. "What a flake," she muttered, hugging her arms close to her chest.

The six of us stood by the gravesite for a beat, getting soaked to the bone, before Spencer quietly said, "Come on." We began heading back to our cars, Spencer falling into step with my mother, and Carly putting an arm around the still-sobbing Melanie. I started to follow them, my shoes slipping on the drenched grass.

We were about halfway to the car before I realized who was missing: Sam. I whirled around and squinted my eyes; the rain was nearly impossible to see through. And there she was, kneeling by her mother's gravesite. As I jogged back over and got closer, I could see her shoulders shaking.

Impossible. I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen Sam Puckett cry, let alone completely break down like this. Sam Puckett was strong. Sam Puckett was in control. Always.

But this time, she wasn't.

And it was strange and unsettling to me.

I ended up right behind her, and I placed my hand to her shoulder. She jerked at my touch, and recoiled. "Sam," I said gently. "It's okay. It's okay to be sad." Immediately, I mentally slapped myself. Who was I, Mister Rogers? "I mean," I swallowed hard. "I know how hard it is…" My eyes closed as I remembered my own father's funeral.

It had taken place on a light spring day, on a rolling green hillside. I was twelve and my father was dead. "Heart attack," adults whispered around me, as if I was too young or too delicate to know the circumstances. But I wasn't stupid. Dad had collapsed during dinner; fallen right into his plate of food. He was rushed away to the hospital, and that was the last time I had ever seen him. So I stood there, on that green hill covered with funeral black, and listened to the pastor speak, and my mother cry, and felt a hole in my heart open up.

Sam let out a small whimper that brought me back to reality. She turned her head a little, and I got a glimpse of her face. It was pale and drawn and so full of grief that I could hardly bear to look. Sucking in a breath, I tried again. "Sam," I whispered. Then I stooped down beside her, taking care not to touch her, and together we sat in pouring rain.

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A/N: Thank you to the three people who reviewed. I appreciate it so, so much. If you read this, please do review because it helps me a lot to know that I'm not just writing this in vain. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2 of The Wander-Year. This event that just happened is going to be a big part of the story… I hope you paid attention, ha ha ha.

-Allie


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly

The Wander-Year

Chapter 3

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As I maneuvered the crowded hallways on the second Monday back, I was hit with the remembrance of why I disliked high school so much. "Hey, man!" Max Weber, a senior jock, called to his buddy on the other end of the hall, "I heard you got a lot of action at Beau's party Saturday, am I right?" Then he winked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I bet the number of girls he's screwed is higher than his IQ," Carly muttered to me as she appeared at my side, hugging her books to her chest." I laughed, but her expression became more serious. "No Sam again?"

I shook my head. "Guess not. I texted her asking if she needed a ride, but she never responded."

Carly bit her lip as we turned into our first hour class, American History. "I'm so worried," she said. "It's been a week…"

Neither of us had seen Sam since the funeral. I had ended up giving her a ride after the burial to her new foster home, while my mother drove Melanie to the airport. Her foster parent's home was in an upper-middle class part of Seattle, and it was a nice house with white shutters and a picket fence.

"Just give her time." We plopped into our seats. "Sam bounces back from everything."

Carly nodded, but her brow was still furrowed. "Yeah, but maybe this is different."

I considered this as the bell rang. When I had left Sam at her foster home, her eyes were determined, not watering or wavering in any way. The grieving face I had seen at the funeral was gone.

"Welcome, _class_," our teacher, Ms. Brownstein spat. Her grey hair was sticking up in more directions than usual, and she seemed to be swaying slightly on the spot. "Did you have a good weekend?" She glared at us, daring someone to respond. I glanced around. All last week Ms. Brownstein had begun the class with rages about her ex-husband. Everyone in the class had uninterested expressions on their face; Carly looked like she had smelled something funky, and the new girl Katy was trying not to make eye contact. "Well, I didn't!" Ms. Brownstein hissed, spit flying everywhere. "My ex-husband _refused_ to pay child support _again_."

Across the aisle, Katy let out a tiny cough that might've been a covered up laugh. "Those poor children," she muttered.

"I could go to court, but with what money?" Ms. Brownstein continued, her voice dropping. "The idiot drained the bank before he left me. I move halfway across the country for him, and what does he do to repay me? Leaves me to rot in a dumpy shack with his six kids! I never should've married him…" her mumbling became unintelligible, so I turned to Carly, who had exasperation written all over her face.

"How do these teachers get hired?" she said, twirling her pencil rapidly. "Ms. Briggs, Mr. Howard, now her? What has this world come to?"

I shook my head. "No idea. But listen, Carly, what are we going to do about iCarly? It's tonight, and we haven't even rehearsed with Sam."

"Oh," Carly's mouth fell open. "I hadn't even thought of that. Maybe Spencer could co-host again?"

I shuddered, thinking of the last time Spencer had replaced Sam. "I guess we could ask –"

"Shut up!" Ms. Brownstein screeched. Apparently, she had realized that her class was no longer interested in her rants about her ex-husband. "I'm s'posed to assign you guys a project, so shut up and listen. You'll have a partner, and _I'm_ assigning them." She hiccupped before picking up a sheet of paper. "Wendy Wilson and Ryan Carter. Max Weber and Amber James. Carly Shay and Jake Krandle."

Carly beamed at me. "Yes!" I heard her whisper.

The edges of my lips curled up. "So are you still doing cheerleading?"

"Of course," she said, chewing on her lip. "What if he only dates cheerleaders?"

"Carly –"

"…and Wren Patrick. Kathryn Brile and Freddie Benson. The project is due in two days, now get working!"

"But Ms. Brownstein…" Amber James, an over achiever of the worst kind, raised her hand. "You haven't told us what our project is."

Ms. Brownstein narrowed her eyes. "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. I need Advil," she muttered. Amber James's mouth fell open as our teacher walked out of the classroom, leaving us alone.

It took all of two seconds for the class to erupt in screams and laughter. Carly was gone in a flash, and plopped next to Jake a beat later. I decided that there was no point in trying to study through the noise so I pulled out my phone. No new messages. Sighing, I shoved it back in my bag. Where on earth was Sam?

"Hey, Freddie." I looked up, and there was Katy. "Do you want to start thinking up ideas for our project?"

"Uh, sure."

Katy sat down next to me and took out a notebook and a pencil. "Well, where to start," she frowned. "Brownstein didn't give us any guidelines."

"She's probably too busy taking care of her ex-husband's six kids."

Katy snorted. "If she was my mom, I think I'd run away."

"I think I would've run away years ago."

We both laughed. "Okay," I said. "Let's get back to the project. Timeline's are always safe."

"That sounds good," Katy said slowly. "It covers everything."

"Yeah, let's do that then." I paused, wondering if I should ask her… "Maybe you could come over sometime and work on it?"

Katy nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds great! Here –" she tore a piece of paper from her notebook and scribbled some numbers down. "This is my cell number. Why don't you text me?"

I grinned. "I will."

* * *

"…a back-walkover isn't required, but it's highly recommended, and I can do one pretty well so I'm not nervous about that," Carly chatted as we sat at our usual table in the cafeteria. I poked at my lunch with a fork, only half-listening. The dish was orange and mushy. Was it pureed carrots? "…Courtney Kelly is the captain and I hate her, but I guess I'll have to deal with her if I want to win Jake, but I really hope she's not too…" Maybe it was pumpkin? Why would they have mashed-up pumpkin for lunch? "…Freddie, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" I said absently. "Yeah, Courtney is a bitch. You should've heard what she said to Sam the other day."

"What?"

"Oh, she just insulted her clothes and her mom…" I trailed off, my gaze falling on the doors leading into the lunchroom. And there was Sam, walking towards our table quickly, her head down. "Carly – turn around." She did, and gasped.

"Hi!" Carly exclaimed. "I didn't know you were at school today!"

"I just got here," said Sam quietly, sitting down next to Carly. "The administration has been trying to sort stuff out with my foster parents. Apparently I'm supposed to go to North Central High School, but they decided to let me finish high school here."

"That's so great!"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, well, I can't say I've missed this dump. How's school been without me?"

A bubble of laughter rose in my throat. "Not quite as entertaining," I replied. Sam looked at me, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

"So, Carly," Sam said slowly. "When are cheerleading tryouts?"

"Tomorrow! And I'm so nervous!"

"In the gym?" Sam asked.

Carly looked suspicious. "Yes… why? Please don't set off a stink bomb or something, because this is really important to me."

Sam shook her head. "Don't worry. Hey, should we do iCarly tonight? Our viewers are probably wondering what's up."

Carly and I exchanged glances. "Uh… sure," I said. "You sure you're up for it?"

Giving me a strange look, Sam said, "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

I shook my head and, out of the corner of my eye, saw Carly's eyebrows shoot up. "Never mind."

"I'll see you guys tonight," Sam said. "I need to go get makeup work from Eberhardt. Later." And then she got up and left.

"Well." Carly frowned as we watched Sam exit the cafeteria. "That was strange."

And it was. Sam didn't seem upset at all, a sharp contrast from the sobbing girl at Pam Puckett's funeral or the shell-shocked girl on my fire escape.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "I guess she can bounce back from anything." I echoed my own words, trying to convince myself that I was right while also trying to get Sam's grief stricken face from the funeral out of my head.

* * *

"Hey!" Katy beamed when I opened the door and let her into my apartment Tuesday afternoon. "You ready to work?"

"You bet."

Katy followed me into the living room. It was spotless, thanks to my mother, but I had taken off the plastic coverings on the couch and hidden the twelve bottles of antibacterial soap that normally resided on our coffee table. "What a nice apartment you have," Katy said. "It's so _clean_."

I grimaced. "Thank my mom for that."

"My parents are the same way," Katy said as she set her stuff down on the floor and plopped down next to it. "They freak out if I don't put the books back on the bookshelf in alphabetical order."

"At least you don't have to cut the corners of book pages because they're too sharp," I muttered to myself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Let's get to work."

We worked on our timeline for about half an hour, looking up dates and important events on my laptop, and occasionally making comments about Brownstein's stupidity. "I mean, if she doesn't want to be a teacher, she should just quit," Katy complained as she colored in an American Flag.

"She really should," I agreed. "I mean, I would love to actually learn about American history, instead of '1001 Reasons Why My Ex-Husband is an Asshole'."

Katy giggled. "I know, right? I love learning about history. It's my favorite subject."

"Mine too!" I exclaimed. "I mean, after computer sciences."

"Oh, you do the tech stuff for iCarly, right? I just started watching. It's a really good show."

"Yeah, I do," I said, surprised that she would know about iCarly. "And thanks."

"Has it been hard?" Katy asked, lowering her voice. "I heard about Sam's mom. Is it hard for her to be all jokey?"

I stiffened. Talking about Sam's mother wasn't exactly taboo, but it _was_ pretty personal. "Uh," I said, "I don't know; she hasn't really talked about…"

Katy's eyes widened, she laced her fingers together, and shook her head wildly. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"No, don't worry about it. I think Sam is pretty strong, and I think she's trying to get back to her normal self…" I trailed off as I felt my phone buzz against my leg. "Hold on a sec," I said. It was Carly. She was supposed to be at cheerleading tryouts, I remembered, so what was she doing texting me?

Carly: SOS! sam is trying out 4 cheerleading!

My eyes bugged out of my head. Sam? Cheerleading? There was no way. No way. I flashed back to the conversation we'd had on the first day of school, where Sam had openly mocked cheerleaders. Sam hated cheerleaders. Carly must be confused, I told myself. Maybe Sam was playing a prank on someone, and she was in the gym… but there was no way she was _trying out for cheerleading_. As if on cue, my phone buzzed again.

Carly: NO JOKE!

I dropped my phone in shock, and it landed with a thump on the carpet. My head was spinning as I glanced outside, expecting to see pigs flying or mushrooms coming from the dark clouds over Seattle instead of rain. "What is wrong with the world?" I said to myself.

"What was that?" Katy was looking at me with a concerned expression.

I swallowed hard. "Nothing," I told her. "Nothing at all. Now let's get back to work."

"How were, uh, cheerleading tryouts?" I asked hesitantly as I slid into my American History seat next to Carly before the first bell. The morning car ride with Sam had not seemed out of ordinary in the slightest; she had eaten four donuts and put her feet up on my newly cleaned dashboard.

Carly shook her head. She seemed to be in a sort of daze, her eyes wide and her hands folded. "I don't know," she said with a hollow voice. "I think I've gone crazy. I mean, _Sam_, a cheerleader?"

"Did she say anything to you?"

"She barely said two words to me. I think she was avoiding me, actually. She just showed up, tried out, and left."

"Well… she probably won't make it though, right? Sam's not a dancer or anything."

Carly bit her lip and looked away. "The list is already up, Freddie. Sam and I both made the varsity team."

There was a beat where we both sat in silence, oblivious to the noisy chatting and horseplay behind us. "Well," I said.

"Well," Carly replied.

"What are we going to do?"

Carly looked at me strangely. "There isn't a whole lot we can do. Sam's not very… open, so I doubt we're going to get an explanation." She twiddled her pencil. "Maybe we should just see where things go."

"Where things go," I repeated doubtfully. "A fat lot of good –"

"Hi, Freddie!" Katy had appeared next to me. "Why don't you come over by me? We can put the finishing touches on our timeline."

I shot Carly a look and she shrugged. "Just keep an eye on her," I muttered to her, as I got up and joined Katy.

* * *

A/N: Whoa-ho, Sam, cheerleading? Why would she do that…? I know, I know! Tell me what YOU think. What is her motive?

Review, and thanks for reading!

-Allie


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly.

* * *

The Wander-Year

Chapter 4

* * *

The first month of junior year went past in a blur of honors classes, homework, and listening to Ms. Brownstein scream about her ex-husband. As the days went on, I was spending more and more time with Katy, and less and less time with Carly and Sam, especially Sam, who were both busy with cheerleading.

Sam?" I finally got up the courage to ask the day before the first home football game. "Why, um, are you a cheerleader? I thought you hated cheerleaders."

Sam shrugged moodily, picking at her Salisbury steak that looked more like road-kill. "My foster parents thought I needed to join a sport so I can get into college. Every other sport already had tryouts."

Carly looked relieved, but I knew for a fact that tennis tryouts weren't for another week and there were always the spring sports. "I thought you didn't care about college," I said.

Sam tightened her jaw muscles and jutted her chin out as she looked down. "I didn't say I did, Benson," she defiantly said to her road-kill. "But my foster parents want me to go, and I don't blame them. They don't want to be stuck with me for longer than necessary."

"I'm sure they love you, Sam," Carly said, glaring at me. _You aren't helping_, she told me silently.

"They have four other kids living there, Carls," Sam replied. "They have enough on their plate."

"Well, you're always welcome at my place!" Carly chirped.

"Thanks."

I stayed quiet throughout this whole exchange, studying Sam's appearance. There was something off, I was sure of it. She was dressing differently than usual; she had on a white top with one of those ruffly things at the neck like Carly sometimes wore, dark skinny jeans, and pink flat shoes. But there was something especially different… And then it clicked. "Sam? Why is your hair straight?" I asked slowly.

Carly clapped her hand to her mouth. "Ohmygosh!" she exclaimed. "I didn't even notice! I thought something was different though – ohmygosh, Sam, it looks good!"

"Thank you," Sam said, although she looked alarmed, as though she herself had forgotten about her straight hair.

"Why?" Carly repeated my question as she ran her hands through Sam's hair.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Courtney Kelly did it for me yesterday after practice and I thought it looked nice so I decided to try it…"

"Your hair's so long!" Carly gushed. "But you missed a spot right over here…"

"Oh, oops," Sam said, but even as she replied, she held her head up higher.

And that was when I knew things would be changing.

* * *

I immediately knew it was game day when I walked into school the next morning. White and red was everywhere, streamers draped over lockers and stairs, not to mention the jocks screaming and hollering like five year olds on Christmas. "Slaughter the Porpoises!" Max Weber bellowed from the top of the stairs, brandishing a red foam finger like a sword.

"Murder North Central!" Jake Krandle roared next to him, thrusting his fists over his head like a gorilla.

I steered around them as they screamed in the faces of several petrified freshmen pressed against lockers. "Freaking animals," I said, shaking my head as I dumped my stuff by my locker. Carly and Sam were there, waiting for me, I assumed.

"Oh, they're just excited!" Carly said as she turned around to face me. She and Sam were wearing matching red and white cheerleading outfits and Sam's hair was straight again. "And I don't blame them! I am, too!" She poked my stomach. "Come on, Fred-o! Be happy!"

"Whoopie," I said sarcastically. "Sam doesn't seem excited. Why don't you bother her?"

"I am excited," Sam said in such a monotone that I just had to laugh. She smiled too, though she looked surprised.

"So are you, like, going to, like, start, like, talking like this now?" I teased gently.

Sam let out a genuine laugh. "Oh, you know it, boy," she replied with a grin. We smiled at each other for a moment before Jake Krandle and Max Weber walked past.

"Good luck, ladies," Jake said, and Max grinned lazily at Sam and nodded. Sam's grin got bigger and I swore that I saw her cheeks turn pink.

I looked back and forth between Max and Sam, incredibly confused. Sam hated jocks, especially cocky jocks like Max. I opened my mouth to speak, when the bell rang. "Bye!" Carly squealed, and skipped off towards American History. "Come on, Freddie!"

"Wait –" I said, reaching out towards Sam, who was already walking down the hallway at a high speed. "Hey, Sam!"

But she was already gone, swallowed up by the mass of red and white.

* * *

When we were released at 3:10 that afternoon, screams echoed throughout the halls. "Go, Bulldogs!" one shrill girl behind me shrieked in my ear. I grimaced, rubbing it. Sports had never been my thing, except fencing. The whole school-spirit thing was not my cup of tea either. Put the two together, and I was one unhappy camper.

"Freddie!" Katy rushed up to me, her eyes bright. "Are you going to the game tonight?"

"I, uh, maybe."

"Do you want to meet up?" She was looking at me so expectantly, and suddenly, there was nothing that I wanted to do more than go to that stupid game.

"Absolutely!" I exclaimed, surprising even myself. "See you there?"

Katy nodded, bobbing her head enthusiastically. "Okay!"

* * *

The weather was nippy, but not too cold, and thankfully, it was not raining. I arrived at the game right in time for the kick-off and found Katy almost immediately. She was chatting to a girl I recognized from American History near the concession stand but immediately dismissed her when she saw me. "Hi," she said brightly. "Want to go watch?"

There were many other things I would've rather been doing, but I nodded anyway. Being juniors, we were allowed in the third row of the bleachers from the front, two steps down from last year, and a vast improvement in my mind. "Learn to catch, nimrod!" Katy screamed a few minutes later at Jake, who had fumbled the ball. She was very into the game, almost to the point of ignoring me. As my mother had deemed football unsafe, I was never allowed to watch it on TV, and I therefore had no idea what was going on. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the field, I just started cheering when everyone else did and booing when everyone else did. Katy didn't seem to notice my lack of football knowledge, and I actually started to enjoy myself.

But after nearly an hour of listening to Katy yell at the ref – "Penalty! PENALTY!" – I started to look for the cheerleaders.

It didn't take too long to find them. They were on the sidelines, shaking pom pons and smiling brightly at the crowd. I spotted Carly immediately – she was in the front, high kicking and waving. Sam was in the back, but she seemed just as perky as the rest of them. She was beaming and seemed to be radiating happiness with her animated face and sunshine-yellow hair.

"Wow," I murmured.

"What's that?" Katy said, not taking her eyes off of Max Weber, who was running towards the other end of the field, holding the ball.

"Sam – my friend Sam. She's a cheerleader, but I thought she'd hate it because she's really ra–"

And then the crowd erupted into screams and cheers and I stood up in alarm, thinking of terrorist attacks and alien spaceships before Katy pulled me into a hug. "We scored!" she cheered, directly into my sore ear, but I didn't really care. "We're winning!"

I could get used to this, I thought, and I had a feeling that I would be going to a lot more football games.

* * *

We won big that night, and the week after that, and the week after that. I went to every game with Katy and while she watched the game, I watched the cheerleaders. Sam got more and more energetic each game, until her enthusiasm matched Courtney Kelly's.

Meanwhile, I was noticing a change in Sam at school as well. She was speaking less and less to me, and wearing girlier things each day, including a pink top with a bow, something that, a month ago, Sam would've died laughing just looking at it.

"Have you noticed any, uh, change in Sam since cheerleading started?" I confronted Carly one day as we talked during halftime of a football game.

Carly frowned and leaned on the fence separating the field and the bleachers. "I don't know. Her clothes are nicer, I suppose, but I'm sure that just has to do with the clothes her foster parents get her."

I wasn't so sure. Sam had always been very picky about everything, especially her clothes, and was not likely to be seen wearing something she hated. "But what about the whole cheerleading thing –"

"Freddie, I think you're overreacting a little bit," Carly said. "She already explained why she had to join cheerleading, and it makes sense."

"No, it really doesn't –"

"Whoops, the game's starting up again, talk to you later, Freddie!" Carly skipped off, waving at me, and leaving me alone.

I scowled at her, and kicked at the dirt on the ground. I shivered: It had been getting colder and colder lately, and I had been less inclined to go to this game than any of the previous ones.

"Freddie, over here!" I looked over into the bleachers and saw Katy waving frantically, her cheeks pink with cold and excitement. "Where'd you go?" she asked me once I had reached her.

"Oh, I was talking to Carly…" I trailed off when I saw she was no longer listening to me.

"Kick his butt, Max!" Katy screeched as Max Weber received the ball and threw it down the field.

Rolling my eyes, I inwardly prayed that Max would fall and break his leg.

After another hour and a half or so of watching the football players run back and forth down the field, there was finally only a minute remaining of play. Katy's eyes were wide, and she was biting her nails down to their nubs, muttering, "C'mon, guys, just one more point and we win." I looked at the scoreboard, and saw that the score was tied at 14 each. "Come on…" Katy whispered, her fists clenched.

The players burst into movement, and I watched as Ryan Johnson, a Ridgeway player, threw the ball to Max Weber, who then sprinted down the field and into the end zone and the crowd erupted.

"We win!" Katy screeched and pulled me into a giant hug. Over her shoulder, I watched the cheerleaders jump up and down and squeal, their pom pons shaking frantically. The football players roared at each other and joined the cheerleaders, and I saw Sam throw her arms around Max while he lifted her off the ground. "How exciting!" Katy said, beaming as she released me.

I made an affirmative noise, my head spinning, my mind miles away from Sam and Max and all of Ridgeway High. "Yeah," I said to Katy loudly, and without a second thought, I leaned in and kissed her.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and as always, please review!

-Allie


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly

The Wander-Year

Chapter 5

* * *

During the first two weeks of October, it was impossible to walk anywhere in Ridgeway without seeing a poster advertising Homecoming. The theme this year was "Under the Sea" which Katy and I mocked relentlessly. "I think I'll dress up as a mermaid for the dance," she told me seriously one day as we were leaving the Groovy Smoothie. "With a tail and everything. I think you should wear a tail, as well."

"What color?" I asked, just as seriously. "I think blue would bring out my eyes; what do you think?"

Katy paused, standing on the sidewalk, her head tilted to the side. "Green is more your color. But if you want to match me," she resumed walking at my side, a twinkle in her eye, "I'm wearing red."

I felt the back of my neck heat up. Katy had been hinting for a while that she wanted to go with me to Homecoming, but I was hesitant to ask her. For the past two years, Carly, Sam, and I had gone together in a group. Sam and I went stag, but whoever Carly's date was usually tagged along.

But there was a nagging doubt in my mind. Ever since cheerleading had started, I'd been seeing less and less of Carly, and I almost never saw Sam outside of iCarly. And even at iCarly, Sam seemed distant… and different. She was wearing her hair straight all the time now and I had even seen her wearing a _dress_ the other day.

"It's weird," Carly had confided in me one day after a short iCarly rehearsal, "Sam seems to really like cheerleading. I never pictured her as the type who would enjoy it, you know? And I've seen her talking to Courtney Kelly, civilly, not like she was trying to kill her or anything."

Come to think of it, I had seen Sam and Courtney walking in the hallways together a couple of times. It was surprising how Sam seemed to fit perfectly at Courtney's side, like a doll with pin straight hair.

"And get this," Carly had whispered. "I saw her talking to Max Weber after practice yesterday. He had that expression on his face that he gets when he's talking to a girl… that he wants to hook up with. And Sam _flipped her hair_. She did a hair flip, Freddie!"

My expression must've told Carly that I didn't see any significance to the said hair flip, so she had let out an exasperated sigh and said, "That means she likes him."

"Freddie?"

I blinked, and saw Katy looking at me with an uneasy expression on her face.

"Sorry," I said. "I must've zoned out." Then I took a deep breath. "So… what shade of red?"

Katy froze. "Are you –?"

"Do you –?"

"Yes!"

We both grinned. "I'll pick you up at seven," I said.

"Okay!" Katy practically laughed. "Oh, and Freddie – dark red." And she skipped off.

"I have news," Carly said grimly as she plopped down next to me in American History. Katy, who I had been discussing Homecoming plans with, pressed her lips together and walked away.

"What?" I said, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice. "Couldn't it have waited?"

"No." Carly shook her head. "So you know how Jake asked me to Homecoming?"

I did; he had called Carly during iCarly rehearsal and asked her, leading her to scream and blather on and on about how cute he was for hours. "Yeah."

"Well… we're going in a big group with a bunch of other football players and their girlfriends. And guess who Max Weber is going with?"

"I have a guess," I groaned. "Not Sam?"

Carly nodded slowly. "But don't worry. I'll keep an eye on them."

"But –" I sputtered. "Sam hates guys like him!"

"I thought so," Carly said thoughtfully. "I don't know what her deal is. I'll talk to her. And listen, Freddie, if you want to sit by Katy, I'll move. Jake wants me to sit by him."

"Okay." I agreed, but I felt a twinge of regret as she left.

* * *

Katy's doorbell played the chorus of Yankee Doodle, which made me smile through my nerves. As I waited for someone to answer the door, I loosened the crimson tie around my neck. My mother had tied it for me, and she had cried hysterically. "My little boy's first Homecoming date!" And then she had tried to fluff my hair for me, and at that point, I had made my escape.

"Hi!" The door swung open, and there was Katy. She was wearing a simple red dress and had a velvet bow in her hair. "Come on in!" She tugged on my arm and beamed.

We took an awkward round of pictures, with my arm slung loosely around her waist. She was taller than me in her high heels, and my tie didn't exactly match her dress. Finally, after nearly twenty minutes taking pictures, we made it to my car. "So," Katy said as she snapped in her seatbelt, "where are we going for dinner?"

"Oh, um, I just thought we'd head to the dance." I mentally slapped myself for forgetting to make reservations anywhere.

"Oh." Katy looked disappointed, but she pressed her lips together and didn't say anything else.

Eager to change the subject, I said, "So how lame are the decorations going to be?"

Katy laughed, and perked up. "I bet they'll have blue crepe paper everywhere."

"Or a giant paper maché fish. By the way," I said quietly once she had stopped laughing, "you look really nice. Even though you're not wearing a tail."

She smiled shyly. "Thanks," she murmured. "You don't look too bad yourself."

When Katy and I walked into the gymnasium, we were not disappointed. The ceiling was draped in dark blue crepe paper, blue cloth on the floor, and twinkling lights draped on the DJ booth, but that was the extent of the decorations. There were a few people already on the dance floor, but most people were milling around the sides.

"No giant fish," Katy said as we headed to the side of the gym. "Darn."

"That's all right." I squinted my eyes, scoping the room for Sam or Carly. I saw Carly chatting with Jake, and without a second thought, I rushed over to her.

"Wait!" I heard Katy call, but I ignored her.

"Hey," I pulled Carly away from Jake, and she gave me a look. "Is Sam here?"

Carly nodded slowly, smoothing out her dark green dress. "Ye-e-e-s... she's right over there." She pointed to the dance floor, where I saw Courtney Kelly in a very tight black dress surrounded by several clones, including a red head in a bright white dress, a tall girl wearing blue, and a blonde in a pink, sequined dress. I didn't see Sam anywhere.

"Are you sure…" And that's when I realized that the blonde in pink was _Sam_. "_What_ is she wearing?"

Carly shook her head furiously. "I have no idea. She hasn't even talked to me, and we all took a limo here together. She was _comparing manicures with Courtney_."

My mouth fell open, and for a brief second, I wondered if the real Sam had been abducted by aliens and replaced with a Hollywood bimbo. Sam Puckett would never get a manicure, much less show it off. And Sam Puckett would never wear a _pink_, _sparkly_, dress. "Has she had an acute head injury lately?"

"God, Freddie, I don't even know. Maybe you should talk to her."

My eyes were focused on Sam. She dancing to "California Gurls" with a big smile on her face, and the other girls were surrounding her, shielding her from outsiders. "She won't listen to me," I heard myself say.

Carly gave me a funny look. "You'd be surprised."

"Freddie!" Katy had caught up to Carly and I. "Let's go dance!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Carly before I could ask her what she meant.

Katy and I danced for the first hour of Homecoming. We counted six unintelligible rap songs, four extremely long techno songs, and three songs where Miley Cyrus was wailing like a dying animal. After one rap song where there were more sensory 'beeps' than actual music, Katy let go of me and turned around, panting. "I need something to drink."

"Wait here!" I yelled, as the rapping started up again. "I'll get us some punch!"

I dodged in and out of grinding couples, trying to avert my eyes. The punch was blue and watery looking, but I really was dying of thirst, so I ladled it into two cups anyway. "Can you hand me a cup?" someone behind me asked.

"Yeah, sure," I replied absently. I turned around, and it was Sam. Her eyes widened when she recognized me, and I saw a flicker of unease pass through her face.

"Oh… hi," Sam said quietly. She grabbed the cup and started to walk away without even filling it up.

"Wait – wait a minute!" I yelled after her. She spun around slowly on her impossibly high heels, avoiding my eyes.

"What's up?" she mumbled.

"Sam," I hissed, walking up closer to her. "What the hell are you doing?" She pressed her lips together and lowered her head further. "I barely see you anymore, and then I hear from Carly that you're a – a cheerleader, and best friends with Courtney Kelly who I _know_ you hate, and – and dating Max Weber? Sam, that guy's a pig! He hooks up with girls left and right –"

Sam's head snapped up. "You don't even know him," she snapped.

"Oh, and you do?"

"He likes me, so –" she began.

"Yeah, and why does he like you? Is it because of your personality, Sam? Or something else?"

Two bright red spots appeared high on her cheekbones. "Are you calling me a slut, Benson? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"I didn't –"

"I can take care of myself!" She was practically yelling now, her hands clenched. "I don't need you and Carly babysitting me all the time, trying to keep me out of trouble… I'm fine on my own!"

"But, Sam –" I tried to backtrack. "We're just really worried about you, you know, with your mom…"

"I'm fine," she said shortly. "I'm over it. I don't need your pity."

"Look, it's okay to be upset. She was your mom. I know when my dad died, I –"

"I'm not you!" she shrieked. Her face was turning bright red, and we were attracting a small crowd. "If you want to sit in your bedroom and cry about your dead dad, whatever, but I have better things to do… I have a life!"

"Oh, like what!" I heard myself shout back. My head was filled with rage, I couldn't hear myself think. "Hook up with Max Weber? Get manicures and pedicures and wear short skirts and pretend to be surprised when they ride up past your ass? That sounds fabulous, Sam! Have fun being a bimbo, but don't expect me to be a part of it!"

"Fine!" she screamed. "Fine! Why would I want you to hang around with me, anyway? You're just a stupid little tech-geek with no life and no friends! Good riddance, Freddork; have a good life with your laptop!"

"Whatever, Sam, I –"

"My name," she yelled, her face screwed up, "is _Samantha_!" And then she whipped around, and strode away towards her new posse's open arms.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ms. Briggs appeared in a horrible plaid kilt, a few seconds late. "No yelling! No vulgar dancing! No laughing! No talking, and no having fun!

I rolled my eyes, still fuming. Ms. Briggs and her stupid beady eyes and pointy boobs began swooping through the mass of dancers brandishing a yardstick and a spray bottle. Holding my two glasses of watery punch, I watched Sam… no, Samantha, with narrow eyes. I saw her meet up with Max, who kissed her on the cheek, and then they started dancing close. I was filled with an immense desire to throw a brick at his head.

"Freddie?" I blinked, and saw that Katy had found me.

"Oh," I said, and I handed her a glass of punch. "Here. Sorry it took so long. There was… a long line."

Her eyebrows were raised. "I… I heard yelling."

"Yeah," I exhaled. "A couple of people were in a fight. Not a big deal though." My eyes found Sam again. She and Max were kissing, wrapped around each other so closely that I could barely tell where each person began. "It's over."

* * *

A/N: Uh oh… trouble's a brewin'. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and please review. I'm planning on this story being about eleven chapters. Also, don't hate Katy because she isn't Sam. Give her a chance. :)

-Allie


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly.

* * *

The Wander-Year

Chapter 6

* * *

November brought cold weather, and cold silences. The tension between Sam and I was so thick that you could practically taste it. Not that we were together much anymore; she had started sitting with Max Weber and the cheerleaders in the cafeteria while I sat with Katy and occasionally Carly. She was also getting a ride from Max in the morning, I had learned, courtesy of Carly. The only times I saw Sam were glimpses in the hallway, where she was almost always wrapped in Max's arms or trotting next to Courtney Kelly, and at iCarly rehearsals.

The rehearsals were awkward, to say the least. Carly tried to best to act as a moderator, but I could tell she was getting fed up. The weirdest thing was that Sam and I weren't speaking at all. We had gotten into fights before, but they always involved trading insults. This… silence between us was strange and different.

"Carly," Sam said with forced pleasantry during one iCarly rehearsal about a month after Homecoming. "Could you please tell Freddie that he needs to fix the blog uploader on the website? There's something wrong with it."

Carly sighed. "Freddie," she said in a monotone. "The blog uploader is broken. You need –"

"I heard, I heard!"

There was a stale silence. "We've been getting a lot of comments asking for another Pathetic Play," Carly said finally.

Sam looked down and picked at the hem of her pink and very short skirt. She was wearing those ridiculous Ugg boots, I noticed, and remembered with a pang an incident involving Sam, a glass of fruit punch, and Courtney Kelly's white Ugg boots last winter. "It was an accident," Sam had protested to Mr. Howard, but she had flashed me a smile. "I don't know if that's a good idea," present-day Sam said quietly.

Carly glared back and forth at Sam and me; we were sitting at opposite ends of the room. "Okay!" she exclaimed after a beat of silence, flinging all her notecards into the air. They rained down onto the floor, like multicolored sprinkles. "This is not my problem! You two need to work this out, or there's no point in continuing the webshow." She looked around at Sam and me, clearly expecting one of us to jump forward and exclaim that of course Sam and I are just playing; this was all a big joke.

But I closed my eyes and saw Sam glued to Max Weber and surrounded by Courtney Kelly clones, and I just couldn't do it.

"I can't," Sam whispered, and her voice sounded so broken that I was tempted to run to the other side of the room wrap my arms around her before I remembered everything that had happened.

Carly's face crumpled and I completely expected to burst into tears. But she surprised me. "Okay," she said gently. "If this is what you guys really want, then Freddie, get your camera." I just looked at her, confused, and she said, "Now!"

Sam retreated to a bean bag behind the tech station, curled up, and didn't move. I had stepped around her and picked up my camera when I was hit with the realization that this might just be the last time I would do this. "In five… four… three… two…" I gave Carly a thumbs up and swallowed my tears.

Carly took a deep breath. "Hi, iCarly viewers!" she said, and I was surprised by the pep in her voice. "I'd just like to take a minute and thank each and every one of you for your support and –" her voice broke. "And… I have to tell you that iCarly will be taking a hiatus for… an unspecified amount of time." She was blinking back tears now, and I knew that it was time to wrap it up.

I turned the camera on to myself. "But don't worry!" I said, fighting to keep a smile on my face. "We're confident that we'll be back – when, I do not know. But keep checking our website for updates! I'll be updating my blog for sure, and maybe I'll put pictures up, too…" I was rambling now, and I realized how much I didn't want iCarly to end. "But anyway, thanks for everything guys, and we'll see you soon!" Blinking rapidly now, I pressed the red button and we went off the air.

Carly let out a sob and covered her face with her hands. Sam rushed over to her, wearing her ridiculous thick boots no less, and wrapped her arms around her friend. Carly, however, made a noise of outrage and shoved Sam back. "No!" she snapped through her tears. "Don't! This is all your fault – you and Freddie's! How…" she broke down again. "How could you be so selfish?" Carly turned away from Sam and me and wept.

Sam and I exchanged glances. I opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head sadly and sat down next to Carly. My two best friends, now so similar in appearance, with their mini skirts and pin-straight hair. My two best friends, so similar, cheering on the football field.

My two best friends, the two former stars of iCarly.

They were so alike now, and yet I realized the difference between them now.

There was a sobbing girl on the floor who was my best friend, and a stranger with a painted face next to her. A stranger who used to be my best friend.

* * *

After the incident at Homecoming, it was simply acknowledged that Katy and I were together. There was no exchanging of friendship rings or declarations of love, it was just a fact, like the fact that the sun would rise every morning.

_Together_ meant that we went on dates to the Groovy Smoothie every afternoon, and to the movies every Friday, and I would walk her to her classes and kiss her in the hallway. People looked at us, and I liked that, surprisingly. It was like Sam and I were blazing a new trail in high school, one of popularity and envy.

"Good morning!" Katy chirped as she walked up to my locker the day after the iCarly hiatus had been announced.

"Hi," I replied dully. I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before. Instead, I had pulled out album after album of iCarly photos. It wasn't until I got to the picture of us holding up our award in Japan that I really lost it, and after that, all the pictures were blurry.

"What's the matter?" Katy asked after she had kissed me on the cheek. "Did something happen?"

I nodded wearily, wondering why Katy hadn't seen the video since I knew she watched the webshow regularly. "iCarly is on an indefinite hiatus."

"Oh," Katy said. "Right, I saw. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks."

"Well, at least this will make things easier between you and Sam." I looked at her strangely, and she sighed. "Freddie," Katy said. "I know something happened. I knew you guys were best friends, and I know that you don't talk at all anymore." She smiled faintly. "I'm not stupid."

"I know," I replied. "I guess it is obvious. But even though I won't have to deal with the awkwardness at rehearsal anymore… I'm really going to miss iCarly. We did it for three years," I said softly. "And now it's just over."

"Well," Katy said, linking her arm through mine as we started down the hallway. "Think of it as a chapter of your life ending, and now a new one is beginning."

* * *

"Project time!" Ms. Brownstein bellowed in American History, looking remarkably like a bull.

"I wonder if we'll get actual directions this time," Katy muttered beside me. She was still bitter over the B- we had gotten on our timeline – "The American Flag only has 15 stars!" Ms. Brownstein had yelled. "Everyone knows that there are 49 states!" That had pissed me off, too, as the American Flag in question was the size of a postage stamp.

"I doubt it," I whispered back. Brownstein looked even more hung-over than usual, and that was saying something.

"The project," Brownstein said, "isn't due until May, which gives you lots of time to forget about it and FAIL!" She glanced around, her beady eyes resting on Max Weber and the rest of the jocks in the back of the room. "It's got nothing to do with American History, but it's required for all juniors, so don't come complaining to me."

"Ms. Brownstein!" Amber James raised her hand, stretching it almost to the ceiling. "You haven't told us what the project is about!"

"I'm getting there!" Brownstein hollered. She was walking around with a hat, allowing each student to pick out a small slip of white paper. When she stopped in front of me, I reached in and grabbed one, unfolding it and revealing the word "Life" scrawled out in messy handwriting.

"What did you get?" I mouthed to Carly across the aisle. She held up her paper, revealing the word "Change". Rolling my eyes, I whispered, "Why don't you ask Sam about that one?" Carly wrinkled her forehead, and mouthed "What?"

I shook my head at Carly just as Katy poked my ribs. "I got 'Love'," she said. "What did you get?"

"Life," I whispered just as Brownstein said, "For your project, you have to define that word on your sheet of paper. You can ask anyone for their definition to help you out, or whatever. Just define it. Oh – here's the catch. Your definition's only s'posed to be one word. One word that defines it the best."

"But how do we pick just on word, Ms. Brownstein? And should this be a poster or an oral presentation?" asked Amber James.

"I don't care!" our teacher shouted. "Can't you stupid kids shut up once in a while?"

As the class rolled their eyes as a whole, I stared at the four letter word in my hand. _Life_, I thought, _Life equals living. _It was a direct and to-the-point answer, and now my project was done.

* * *

A few days later, Katy and I sat at our favorite table in the Groovy Smoothie. "Okay," Katy said, taking out a pencil and a pad of paper. "Love. What is it?"

"Comfort," I said immediately. "Love is all about comfort. If you're not comfortable around someone, you can't love them."

"That's interesting," Katy said. "Most people completely disagree." She paused to take a long drink of her Blueberry Blitz smoothie and handed me her paper. I scanned down it, words like "spontaneity", "passion", and "courageousness" jumping out at me. Frowning, I said, "Love should be familiar. Once you're in love with someone for a while, they become familiar."

"Sounds like you've had a lot of experience," Katy teased.

I grinned. "Well, I was in love with Carly for six years."

"Really?" Katy looked surprised. "You've known her for that long?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's when I moved to Bushwell and met Carly and Sam."

"And you fell in love with Carly right away?"

"The first time I saw her," I replied, thinking back. I was eight when I met Carly and back then, I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever met. "After a while, it just kind of became a habit to say I loved her and stuff."

"It became familiar, and comfortable," Katy clarified.

"Yeah." I saw Katy looking at me with almost a pitying expression on her face. "What?"  
"Nothing." She shook her head. "That just doesn't sound like real love to me."  
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "And you have so much experience?"

Katy smiled. "When it happens in movies, it's all about sparks and flames and passion. Not being comfortable. In fact, I don't think love is about being comfortable at all. I think it's about not being comfortable."

I elbowed her side and grinned. "Are you comfortable with me?"

She laughed and poked me back. "Actually, you make my heart beat like a jackrabbit."

With a smile, I leaned her over and kissed her, marveling at how familiar it already felt, and for some reason, remembering how uncomfortable my stomach had felt when I had kissed Sam all those years ago.

* * *

A/N: There's Chapter 6! I hoped you like… please review! I appreciate reviews so much. It might be a little while until the next chapter is up; I have SUCH a busy weekend.

-Allie


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

* * *

The Wander-Year

Chapter 7

* * *

"…I was thinking of changing the color scheme to silver and gold, or do you think that would be too metallic? No, maybe I should stick to silver and light blue, because that really does have that wintery, Christmassy feel to it, doesn't it? Anyway, Courtney's mom is a pastry chef, so she's making this gorgeous cake, taller than me, she said. And I'm just so excited, aren't you?" Carly paused for the first time in her nearly ten minute monologue and took a deep breath, beaming.

I took a long sip of my coffee, burning my tongue in the process and leaned back in one of Carly's kitchen chairs. Over my mug, I could see Carly looking at me expectantly, clearly anticipating a response. "Uh-huh," I said, nodding quickly. "Yeah." Carly's annual Christmas Extravaganza was coming up, and they were usually a ton of fun. But this year, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. "So," I said slowly, "who's coming?"

Carly waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you know… you, me, Spencer, Gibby, Wendy, uh, a couple of cheerleaders… some of the football team…" she trailed off, staring down at her fingernails. "Oh, and Sam and Max. Hey look, a golf ball!" She bent under the table, her hair shielding her view from my vigorous head shaking.

"No," I stated. "No way. I can't go, Carls, I just can't."

Her hands clutching the handle of her mug tightly, Carly resurfaced with a golf ball and a pissed off expression. "Freddie," she said through tight lips. "This is ridiculous. You can't let this stupid fight keep you from tradition!"

"It's not about tradition! This has nothing to do with you, I just –"

Carly banged her coffee mug on the table so hard that it shattered into a million pieces. Bits of china flew everywhere, and I was splattered with searing hot coffee. "Dammit!" Carly shrieked, as her hands flew up to shield her face. "God dammit! Shit, Freddie, I am so sorry –" She leapt up and snatched a dish towel that was lying innocently on the counter, patted her face with it, and tossed it to me. "I'm so sorry," she said again. "I don't know what came over me."

"No," I gasped, dabbing my burnt face with the towel. "I shouldn't have said that. Of course it concerns you; you're my best friend, but…"

"But what?" Carly snapped, the irritation in her eyes returning. "This fight is getting just plain silly. I feel like a fourth grader when I have to talk to you guys separately. I had to give up iCarly because of you. I barely hang out with either of you anymore. Look," she sighed, "I know you two haven't always had the best relationship, but I thought it was getting better." She lowered her eyes and shook her head slowly. "I really did."

I looked away, twisting the towel in my hands to avoid answering her. My insides squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," I said finally. "I don't want to talk about this. I'll go to your party, but I'm not talking to Sam. Okay?"

For a second I thought that Carly was going to protest, but she instead jerked her head in agreement, her jaw muscles tightening.

* * *

"Remind me again, why are you doing this?" I called up to Gibby, who was scurrying up a ladder just beside Ridgeway's main entrance, a rippling white banner in tow. Squinting in the glaring sun, I lifted my hand to shield my eyes, as Gibby leaned against the bricks unsteadily.

"I told you," he yelled back, "it's National Wear a Plunger on Your Head Day tomorrow, and I want it to be recognized!" And with a wide smile, he flipped over the billboard-sized piece of paper to reveal a crude drawing of a man with a bright pink toilet plunger perched on the top of his head.

The winter breeze picked up to a howl, and I pulled my arms closer to my chest. "And you're sure this is approved with the school board?"

Gibby stared down at me, his mouth agape. "You have to get this stuff approved?" he asked, bewildered. "Man, that's crap! What about freedom of speech? Equality for people and toilet plungers everywhere!" Muttering to himself and shaking his head, Gibby began to step down the ladder.

"Hey, be careful, the wind's really getting –"

"Whoa!" My warning came too late. A sudden gust of wind blew the ladder straight back. Gibby flew off the rungs, shouting frantically, his arms pinwheeling, and landed with a soft thump on a mound of snow.

"Gibby!" I dashed over to the snow bank only to see him getting up, rubbing his back.

"Why is it always me?" he grumbled. "It's like the universe hates me. Why? Why do you hate me, universe?" Gibby yelled up to the sky. "Is it because I take my shirt off a lot? Huh? Well, too bad, because that's what Gibbies do!" Ripping off his puffy blue coat, he made to talk off his sweater as well, but I stopped him.

"Gibby, you idiot, it's like twenty degrees out here!"

"The Gibster fears no temperature!" Gibby roared, and he broke free and tore off his sweater and the shirt underneath, leaving only his bare stomach. He ran ahead of me, growling and snapping like a deranged wolf. It only took me a few seconds to catch up with him though, as he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "I'm cold," he stated as I reached his side.

I sighed. "Let's go to the Groovy Smoothie. I hear they're selling hot chocolate for the holidays."

The Groovy Smoothie was thankfully warm and cozy. After ordering two large hot chocolates, Gibby and I plopped down onto two chairs near the front door. "So," Gibby said as he took off his boots and placed his feet on the table, "what are you doing for your one word project thing?"

"Life," I replied. "It's a stupid topic."

"Easy!" Gibby yelled, banging a fist on the table. Several customers around us glanced at him in alarm. "I have to do 'order'. What does that even mean?"

"It means following the –" I paused. Gibby rarely paid attention to rules, and when he did, he seldom followed them. "Never mind. And my word isn't easy, it's dumb. There are thousands of words to describe life. How can I pick just one?"

"Easy," Gibby repeated. "It's all about craziness. Spontaneity, dude! Don't go by the rules! If you feel like taking your shirt off, by golly, you should take your shirt off! No consequences." He leaned back more in his chair, an easy smile spreading over his face. "I remember the first time I took my shirt off in public. I felt so alive, so free! Fred-o, when was the last time you did something completely crazy?"

I thought back. "Once, I filled a guy's hat with raisins."

Gibby gave me a blank look that was reminiscent of Sam. "Lame."

"We do a lot of pranks on iCarly! Those are crazy!"

"Yeah, but Sam comes up with them… uh, I mean, came up with them."

There was a sticky moment of silence before I quickly changed the subject. "I guess I'm not the spontaneous type."

Gibby's posture relaxed again. "You should change that. Do something nuts, man. You'll feel better." He massaged his neck. "Good for the muscles."

Outside, it looked as though the wind had died down some. Branches were strewn messily all over the street, but the trees were virtually still. "Something crazy," I repeated, my eyes still on the littered road. "I'll try."

* * *

While most high school parties in Seattle consisted of pulsing bass lines and drunk freshmen puking up beer, Carly's parties were like something out of a magazine. People actually dressed up for them, and no one ever complained about the lack of beer kegs. And even dressed in my stiff shirt and tie, I felt much more comfortable than I usually did at parties.

"Oh, hey, Freddie!"

I looked up from my drink and saw Wendy, her red hair pulled back in a long braid and a bright smile on her face. "Hi, Wendy, how are you?"

"Great, thanks! Isn't this party gorgeous? Carly always does such a good job."

I nodded, admiring the shimmering silver snowflakes and blue silk streamers she had finally chosen. "Yeah, she does."

"So where's Katy?" Wendy asked a little too casually. "Are you two still together?"

"Uh, yeah, we are, but she's in Utah for the holidays."

"Oh, too bad! So anyway, do you want to dance?"

I looked at Wendy and her flushed face and hopeful eyes, and felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. It was only one dance. What was the harm? "Uh, I guess…" My gaze drifted away from Wendy and fell on Carly's front door, where Max had just arrived – along with Sam. "Excuse me," I murmured, and ducked away, hurrying towards the sanctity of the kitchen.

"Pardon me, excuse me, sorry!" I said loudly as I elbowed my way to the punch bowl. I busied myself by filling up a silver glass with blue liquid, trying to make as much noise as possible, but Carly's shrill voice still rang in my ears.

"Sam! Max! I'm so glad you guys are here!" Carly shrieked, and although I couldn't see them, I was sure she was enveloping them both in a big hug. "Come on, take your coats off, I'll put them in my room – oh, Sam, you look so pretty!"

"Thanks," I heard Sam say, and my heart skipped a beat. She sounded so passive and lifeless, like a doll. Abandoning my punch, I walked into the living room, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Samantha just insisted on coming to your party tonight," Max was saying. "We had, uh, _other_ plans, but she wouldn't budge. Strange seeing Samantha so… so…"

"Adamant?" I burst out, unable to hold my tongue anymore. "Yeah, she gets like that." I looked up from the floor for the first time, and saw Sam glaring at me. Max frowned. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Freddie, why don't you put these coats in my bedroom," Carly said hastily, shoving a heavy load of fabric into my arms. "I'd really appreciate it. She turned to Sam and Max, smoothing out her dress. "Anyway, I'm really glad to see you too. You guys are so busy, we never get to talk."

"I wanted to come," Sam said quietly.

Max smirked. "You never came before you met me."

Carly's mouth dropped open and a dull flush crept up the back of Sam's neck, over her collar, and up to her face. She looked away, and I suddenly could not see straight, rage at Sam's passiveness and her asshole of a boyfriend filling me. I waited for Sam to say something, to snap at him, to tell him to shut the hell up before she punched him.

But she didn't.

And then I couldn't take it. "I'm leaving," I said abruptly. I turned and walked towards the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears. No one tried to stop me.

* * *

The former iCarly studio was quiet, with only a dull echo of the party downstairs seeping in. I paced around the room, my head buried in my hands, my heart pounding in my ears. How could it have come to this? How could Sam have changed so much, and for the worse? "Argh!" I yelled suddenly, swiping a thick black book off the otherwise bare laptop cart. It fell dog-eared to the floor, landing with a dull thud, its pages spread apart. I picked it up, and a faded photo slipped into my hand.

It was of the three of us, the summer before freshman year. We were in the studio, about a foot away from where I was currently standing, our arms around each other tightly, our smiles wider than the ocean. Me in the middle with Carly and Sam on either side. Carly was doubled over laughing while Sam was leaning into me, her head nearly on my shoulder. We looked so carefree, so happy just to be together, without any worries.

I looked away, crumpling the photo in my hand. How different things were now.

* * *

It was almost an hour later when I left the iCarly studio. I gave it one last look – it was dark and nearly empty – before I shut the door and started down the stairs.

It was a bit quieter downstairs, but plenty of people were still there. I kept my head down – I wanted to leave quickly and quietly without Carly noticing and making a big fuss. My party mood had been zapped.

"But Max, I don't want to leave yet…" My head snapped up and there were Sam and Max blocking the door. She was pleading, and his face was hard.

"We're leaving," he said with a frown.

"But –"

"I said, let's go!" Max was nearly yelling now, and several people around them had turned around, alarmed. Sam's face was red.

"Stop yelling –"

Max shook his head furiously and grabbed Sam's wrist, yanking open the door. They vanished, the door slamming behind them, but not before I had seen Sam's face: pale, and streaked with tears.

It broke my heart.

* * *

Umm... hi. :) I'm not dead... I promise this story will be finished! I just got super busy, and then I completely rewrote this second half of the story... so yeah. It will be finished. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please do review, and I would of course appreciate it if you checked out my other iCarly stories... _Sunrise_, _Behind Closed Doors_, and _Those Unsaid Things_.

Much love,

Allie


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